The Crash
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: My first ever Johnlock, so please leave reviews. Chapter 8, 9 and 11 are pretty short, but there's hopefully enough there. Please review - I take all criticism. Sherlock's in a car crash, so what will John do? Will he tell him?
1. Chapter 1

**Please leave a review **

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Sherlock decided to get a cab back to the flat from Scotland Yard where he had earlier met Lestrade about a case that he had solved just that day. He's asked John to accompany him, but he was going on a date. So, Sherlock went alone.

In the cab, John called to see what the case was all about and what happened. "What happened then? About the case?"

"Nothing interesting. Why are you calling? I thought you were on a date?"

"Didn't go so well, I'm back at the flat now." Sherlock chuckled a bit. Suddenly, the taxi was hit hard by another car that seemed to be out of control, it pushed the cab across the road. "Sherlock? Sherlock, what's going on?" John shouted after hearing Sherlock scream. Sherlock couldn't answer; he was currently being pushed into a wall. "Sherlock, what is it?" John started to panic after hearing people scream. Sherlock didn't answer. His forehead leaned against the head rest of the seat in front of him where the driver lay dead. Sherlock had blood pouring everywhere; there was blood coming from his face and his head, and he was unconscious. The police and ambulances had been called by lots of people who had seen this horrific incident. Sherlock was taken to hospital straight away.

John was called by the hospital to tell him Sherlock was in hospital, so he quickly got there. Sherlock was in such a state; he had a stitch over his eye and near his lip. He was cut and bruised nearly everywhere; his right eye would hardly half open, let alone fully open. And, he was still unconscious. Fortunately, he had only little head damage; nothing serious, which was good.

Mycroft was also called about his brother, so he rushed to the hospital too which was a surprise to John. "John, what happened?" Mycroft asked, panting and trying to catch his breath as he did. John sighed, and then sat down on a chair in the waiting room. Mycroft took a seat next to him.

"Sherlock was in a serious car accident; I wasn't there at the time, but the doctors have told me someone lost control of their car and rammed the cab Sherlock was in into a wall. The drivers of the cab died and Sherlock's badly injured, luckily there's no brain damage or anything. He's got a lot of bruises and there's something wrong with his eye." Mycroft looked quite worried about his brother and then got confused because John wasn't with him; they were normally always with each other.

"Where were you?"

"I was on a date, sort of. I called Sherlock just as the car hit him." John felt a bit guilty for not being there; he knew it wasn't his fault, but he thought maybe he would have been able to help in some way if he was there. How, he didn't know, but maybe he could have. Mycroft could tell John was feeling guilty, and tried to convince him he wouldn't have been able to do anything, he would have only put himself in danger as well.

By 21:30, John was allowed to go and see Sherlock. He'd offered Mycroft his place, because only one person could visit at a time, but Mycroft thought it would be better if John went as he and his brother weren't really best of friends. Plus, Mycroft had to get back to work; he had been gone all day, so he asked John to tell Sherlock he had been.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to MiniMoffat15 for the review! :D Thanks to Bella Watson-Holmes, Grimmjowisthebest** **and Anime Otaku TB15 for favouriting my story :)**

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John went into the room and sat down beside Sherlock's bed. To John it looked as if Sherlock was asleep, but he was half awake. "Sherlock, are you alright?"

"Oh God..." Sherlock grunted because of the pain as he tried to move to face John, it half worked. "Uh-" as Sherlock spoke he started to get a pain in his lip due to the deep cut right above it. He stopped talking, and then found a way to talk without hurting it; he hardly opened his mouth so John could hardly understand him. "I, uh, I think... I think... I'm alright." Sherlock didn't feel alright; he was dosed up on morphine, he could hardly speak or see, he could hardly move any part of his body and he felt incredibly sleepy and just woozy.

"I heard what had happened, sounds awful. Luckily, you haven't damaged your brain though, so that's good."

"Yeah..." Sherlock started to sleep, and John could see he was tired, so he let him slowly drift into sleep. John was given a place to sleep so he could stay with Sherlock, but he didn't get much rest; he was still in shock because of everything that happened. He wouldn't know what to do if Sherlock had been seriously injured or had died. Thankfully, Sherlock was alive, and he was doing alright considering he'd just been in a bad car accident.

The next day, Sherlock seemed to be doing better than he had the day before, obviously not great, but he was better. John had gone to get a coffee before Sherlock woke up to refresh himself and keep himself awake seeing as he had hardly any sleep the night before. When he got up, Sherlock was awake and the doctor was in the room explaining everything to Sherlock. "We'll probably be able to discharge you tomorrow or the day after; you're doing well, there's no serious damage and everything seems fine. We'll check again just to be sure, but it seems you're going to be fine." The doctor smiled to Sherlock and then John as John went to sit back down in the chair beside Sherlock's bed.

"That's good news." Sherlock mumbled, it was sort of understandable, but it was hard for Sherlock to say much because of the cut near his lip. The doctor smiled, placed Sherlock's chart back into the pouch which was placed on the front of Sherlock's bed, and then he left. Sherlock turned his head slightly to John.

"Mycroft came over yesterday, after hearing what happened. He was really worried about you." John said, sipping some of his coffee. Sherlock sighed a little.

"John, trust me, if Mycroft was that concerned, he would have stayed to at least see me." Sherlock wasn't convinced his brother was truly concerned.

"He'd stayed until he heard you were alright; he did stay until you woke up, but only one of us could visit you. He told me it was best if I did, seeing as you two don't really get along." Sherlock suddenly got surprised. He opened his left eye widely; his right eye still wouldn't open really.

"Oh, well then... then just tell him... tell him I'm fine." John smiled and placed his cup of coffee on the table attached to Sherlock's bed as he texted Mycroft telling him Sherlock was feeling alright, and that the doctor said he might be able to go home soon.


	3. Chapter 3

About three days later, Sherlock was discharged. His right eye still wouldn't open fully, but it would open more than it could before; he still had stitches over his eye and on his forehead, and he still had bruises everywhere, but he was able to do certain things normally. He was given medication for the pain.

Mycroft had sent a car to pick both John and Sherlock up, because he wanted to make sure Sherlock was alright. "He didn't have to send a bloody car; I'm fine for goodness sake." Sherlock moaned as he got into the car, but he was secretly happy that he could just sit back and relax.

In the car, Sherlock didn't relax. He was quite scared; he didn't want anything to happen again. He felt as though he was being stupid, and he didn't want John to know he was a little bit worried, so he tried to hide his fear as best he could. Whenever he got a bit worried, he would cough a bit and pretend he just got a pain.

When they finally got to the flat, John helped Sherlock out of the car. He had to help him a lot because he was quite weak and as soon as they got in Sherlock just threw himself onto his bed for some rest. He hadn't really gotten any proper sleep in the hospital because it was hectic in that place, so he was glad to finally get some peace. John told Sherlock he was going to get some rest in his room because he was also incredibly tired, he hadn't gotten any sleep at all while they were at the hospital.

They both slept through the day and then through the night until the next morning when John woke up at half nine. He went down to Sherlock's room, where Sherlock was sat in the living room on one of the armchairs reading a newspaper. He looked better than he had done the few days before, obviously he still couldn't open his right eye, and he did still look bad, but he no longer had bags under his eyes and he looked alive again, as did John. John went into the kitchen and looked around for something to eat, but of course, nothing. "Do you want me to go and buy you something to eat?"

"No thanks." Sherlock said, not looking up from his newspaper once since John had walked in. John sighed and walked back into the living room where he sat in the armchair opposite to Sherlock.

"How are you feeling?"

"A lot... a lot better actually. My lip's still... still hurting a bit, so is my right eye. But... apart from that, I'm... I'm fine." Sherlock said as he folded the newspaper up and placed it onto the table. He and John looked at each other.

"What was it like?" Sherlock looked confused.

"What was what like?"

"The car accident? Did you think you were going to die?" John felt that these questions were inappropriate, but he wanted to know the answers. Sherlock sighed and put the newspaper down onto the table.

"I did. My whole life... my whole life flashed before my eyes for a moment." John didn't ask anything else. He started to wonder what Sherlock thought of in those few minutes before he was hit. He was also trying to decide if he should tell Sherlock how he felt. He realised that he had feelings for Sherlock, when he found out Sherlock had been killed his heart sank. It wasn't just a feeling when your best friend has died, it was more than that. He loved this man, and he thought maybe he should tell Sherlock now how he felt because it might be too late soon. He didn't know though; he was too scared. He had no idea how Sherlock would react; would he mock him, would he just shrug it off and pretend John never said anything, or would he say he felt the same way? John decided he could wait a little bit longer.


	4. Chapter 4

John called Mycroft later that day to thank him for the car. "As long as Sherlock is alright." Mycroft said, he told John he would maybe come over later if he could. Sherlock wasn't as pleased as he should have been. He assumed Mycroft wanted something, because he didn't actually believe his brother could possibly care about him.

Lestrade also called after hearing about the accident. Sherlock made John answer the phone calls because he couldn't be bothered with them. "Is Sherlock alright? I heard about the accident, I was going to call the other day but I realised you'd be busy."

"He's fine, he came home yesterday. He's broken his right hand, and he's got a few stitches and bruises here and there, but he's alright."

"Do you need me to come round or anything?"

"Not really, if you want to, you can."

"I'll be over later then. See you then." Lestrade hung up. Then, there was a knock at the door. Once again, Sherlock made John go and answer it, it was Molly. She'd also heard about the crash, but had decided to wait a few days before going to see Sherlock because she knew he wouldn't want to see anybody apart from John straight away. John offered her a seat on the sofa, and then he sat on the armchair again opposite to where Sherlock was sat.

"Hello Molly." Sherlock said, with a little smile on his face. He was actually quite glad to see her, but he couldn't smile a lot because of his lip.

"Sherlock, how are you? What happened? What did it feel like?" Molly knew she was asking too many questions, but she was in shock and she was just so surprised.

"I'm alright, and it just felt... it felt strange." Sherlock said, slowly looking over at John. John didn't notice Sherlock was looking over at him because he was listening to Molly.

"I hear the driver of the other car was badly injured too. He died in hospital a day after the crash. Someone he knew told the police he had told them he wanted to commit suicide." Sherlock was a bit annoyed at this fact. If he wanted to commit suicide, why didn't he just jump off a building or something? Instead of injuring other people too.

"Well, it doesn't really matter now." Sherlock continued to smile. John felt a bit strange, because Sherlock was actually being _nice. _He didn't really understand it, but he did like it a lot better than the arrogant Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 5

The whole day was hectic; Mycroft and Lestrade also came to visit Sherlock and check he was alright. He was started to get very tired and was quite sick of everyone having pity for him. He didn't want their pity; he just wanted everything to be normal.

"Well, that was fun." John said sarcastically. Sherlock laughed a bit and then John got up from his seat to go up to his room for some sleep.

"John... John, there's something... something I wanted to tell you." Sherlock looked pretty serious, so John listened carefully. "When the car... when the car hit me, my whole life flashed before me," John nodded, Sherlock had already mentioned this to him, so why was he bringing this up now? "Mainly you" Sherlock said, there was a sudden silence from both John and Sherlock. John had no idea how to respond, or what this meant. "What I'm trying to say... I'm trying to say, you mean a lot to me... " John was speechless. He didn't think Sherlock felt this way about him, and he was happy that he did because he felt the same. "That crash, it really woke me up. I have to tell you now, in case... in case anything else happens, because you mean to world to me." John opened his mouth to say something, when Sherlock placed his finger from his left hand onto his lips. John slowly closed his mouth as Sherlock brought himself closer to John. He then slowly rubbed his finger away from John's lips and placed his finger tips on the right side of John's forehead. He gradually let his finger tips slide down the right side of John's face and then let his arm swing gently back by his side. He closed his eyes and moved his face closer to John's. John knew what was happening, but he didn't know how to react. He thought it was strange, but he didn't stop him, he enjoyed it and was happy this was finally happening. John then closed his eyes too, and moved toward Sherlock. Both of their lips touched gently. They kissed for a good ten minutes when John slowly took his lips from Sherlock's. They both opened their eyes slowly and smiled a little. John looked a little inundated and surprised. "That was... that was nice... good..." John managed to say. Sherlock smiled with the corner of his mouth and let out a small, gentle laugh.

"John, I love you." Sherlock spoke softly as he stood up properly. They both looked into each other's eyes and smiled. John was so happy that Sherlock felt this way about him.

"I love you too." Neither of them said anything after that. The moment was perfect for the both of them. There was silence, they were both gazing into each other's eyes, and John loved it. He had finally found out Sherlock felt the same about him and he did about Sherlock, and Sherlock finally kissed John.

Evening came fast, John and Sherlock were sat reading newspapers. They kept glancing up at each other and smiling at certain points, thinking the other couldn't see them even though it was pretty clear. Both of them were extremely tired because of the day they had had, and they both wanted to go to bed. John got up first, and Sherlock stood up quickly afterwards. "Well... I'm going to... go to bed..." John said, awkwardly. He didn't know whether Sherlock wanted him to go to bed with him or what, he couldn't read Sherlock as Sherlock could read everyone else. Sherlock knew what he was thinking, but he didn't want that yet. He wanted what John and he had to be special. He didn't want to sleep with him straight away. Well, some of him did, but he wanted to wait.

"John, I don't really want to sleep with you yet, I want to wait." John didn't know what Sherlock was trying to say; did he just want to be friends, did he actually mean anything he had said before? Did the kiss mean anything? John looked confused and upset because he thought Sherlock just couldn't be with him. "It's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't want to rush... Plus, I can't really do much." Sherlock joked as brought up the fact that he had been injured. John sort of smiled, he knew Sherlock was serious, he did sound very sincere and apologetic, and so he listened and obeyed. Sherlock went over to John and kissed him lightly, then, he went to bed. John stood in the living room for a moment just thinking about the day; about the kiss, about everything, before going to his own bed.

He lay in bed thinking about Sherlock. He wanted to be with Sherlock right then, but he didn't know whether Sherlock wanted that. Maybe he was actually telling the truth about how he wants to wait. And John would have to wait anyway, seeing as Sherlock had just been in a major accident. However, John wasn't bothered; he could wait.


	6. Chapter 6

John came down the stairs the next morning to see Sherlock sat in the armchair closest to the window just reading a newspaper. John walked through the half open door and plonked himself down onto the opposite armchair, looking at Sherlock. Sherlock peered over the newspaper and looked at John. All John could see of Sherlock's face were his eyes. His bright, blue eyes that were staring into him. Everything was silent for a moment. It was like they were having a whole conversation without actually speaking; they knew exactly what the other was thinking and they didn't want to say a word because they didn't want to ruin this moment. This moment, like the one they had had last night. Then, they suddenly heard someone running up the stairs and then the mysterious person knocked on Sherlock's door. Both Sherlock and John sighed, and they rolled their eyes at the floor. Sherlock put his newspaper down and started to get up, but it hurt him a lot to move. So John quickly jumped from his seat and pointed back at the chair for Sherlock to sit back down. Sherlock didn't hesitate to do what his friend had said. John opened the door to see Lestrade. "Hi, is Sherlock here?" John nodded and opened the door. Lestrade walked in and stood near the sofa.

"Lestrade" Sherlock said, moving his lips only slightly apart because he didn't want to hurt himself.

"Sherlock, how are you feeling?" Lestrade asked, gasping for air a little which showed he had tried to get there in a hurry.

"I'm fine; now tell me why you're really here." Lestrade looked confused, but he knew exactly what Sherlock was talking about. "Come on, you haven't really come just to see how I am. You're panting; you rushed to get here, why would just hurry to see how I am? You could've taken your time. You've just come from Scotland Yard, why would you leave to see me if it wasn't about a case? Clearly you're here about a case so spare me the sympathy and just tell me." Lestrade and John were confused as to why Sherlock was being such a huge arse about this. Lestrade was just asking him a simple question, to see how he was, and Sherlock was just being mean. John looked at Sherlock and gave him a look which suggested he had done something wrong. Sherlock didn't really know what he had done wrong though; he was only trying to get to the important information Lestrade had instead of wasting time talking about his health. "I'm sorry, do continue." Sherlock said looking back to Lestrade. John smiled a little because he knew Sherlock had changed, even if it was just a little bit.

"There's been a murder near a theatre. Mr Briggs, early 20s. 'An alright guy' according to his friends. They didn't know of anyone who would want to hurt him." Sherlock sighed and then nodded.

"Text me the address, I'll get a cab." Lestrade nodded to Sherlock and then to John. He then left the flat.

In the taxi, Sherlock started to get very tensed up again. He was still quite afraid. He felt as though it was stupid of him to be scared, even though it was perfectly logical and was bound to happen. Every time the vehicle came to a sudden halt he could feel his heart racing. He grabbed hold of the side of the door and tightened his grip every time it happened. John looked at him and could see the fear in him. He pulled out his hand and placed it on the top of Sherlock's. He softly put his fingers through the gaps of Sherlock's and gripped his hand. Not too tight though. Sherlock turned to face him after noticing what he had done. They both looked at each other and smiled. Sherlock felt safe. He felt as though nothing could happen to him.


	7. Chapter 7

The crime scene was a house half an hour away from Sherlock's flat. Before getting out the taxi, Sherlock and John looked deeply into each other's eyes. "Ready?" Sherlock asked John as he opened the door.

"As I'll ever be." John smiled following Sherlock out of the car. He paid the taxi driver and then followed Sherlock into the home. Donovan showed them both in. She was quite sympathetic towards Sherlock; she had been ever since the fall.

"Heard about the crash, how are you?" She asked. She smiled at him, which surprised John and him, but they smiled back. Sherlock still didn't like her, he still hated her. However, he knew there was no point in arguing with anybody right now. She showed them into the room where there was a dead man's body lying on the floor. Lestrade nodded to Donovan who then left the room to leave Sherlock, John and Lestrade to inspect the body.

Sherlock looked around the dead body for every clue he could find. Eventually he had enough information to conclude that it was an accidental suicide. "A what?" Lestrade asked, folding his arms.

"He took something, but he didn't know what it was. He must've taken too much which caused him to die." Sherlock didn't look as shocked as both John and Lestrade did, he found it quite simple.

"Amazing." John said, still impressed at Sherlock's fantastic abilities to do what he does. Sherlock smiled at him, a soft smile. They stared at each other once again, forgetting Lestrade was even there. Lestrade watched them for a moment; he knew what was going on.

"Right, well, thank you." Lestrade said, breaking them both up. Sherlock coughed and smiled at the inspector, as did John.

They both soon left and were about to go back to the flat when they decided to go and get some dinner. They sat opposite each other at the table, each of them scanning a menu. "You're actually going to eat something?" John joked, still looking at the menu.

"Well, maybe just a small meal." Sherlock smiled.

They ordered a small dinner, like they had said they were going to do. They didn't enjoy it as much as they thought they would, but it was a good time to be alone together. After their meal, they sat at the table and talked and talked. Their right hands spread across the table, John's over Sherlock's. "We better get going; they keep staring at us to leave." John smiled, glancing at the waiters. "They want to close."

"Yeah, we may as well." Sherlock smiled. He looked at John for a moment and thought about everything he loved about him; his smile, his eyes, everything about him was just perfect.

They soon left and went back to the flat. John went up to his room because he knew Sherlock still didn't want to sleep with him yet, and he respected that. So, they kissed each other and went to their rooms.


	8. Chapter 8

'Meet me at the park.' Sherlock had received a message from John at two in the morning. He didn't understand why John had messaged him so early, or what he was doing at the park at this time. He knew it must have been something urgent, so he quickly got some clothes on and ran outside. He walked down to a park which wasn't far from his flat and found John sat on the park bench. He smiled and walked over. He was relieved nothing had happened, but he still couldn't really be sure everything was safe. "What are you doing here?" He asked as he sat down next to John. Both of them just looked straight forward, not at each other. John sighed and looked at the floor. "What is it?" Sherlock looked at him; he knew something was wrong with him.

"It's just... just..." John looked up at Sherlock. "I don't know what I would've done if you had... had..." John couldn't say the next part. He choked on his words and looked back at the floor. Sherlock knew what it was though. He laughed a little, a comforting laugh. He grabbed John's hand.

"But I didn't. I'm here, so everything's fine. We're together." John looked back up at him and smiled. A tear formed in his eye.

"I know, I know..."

"John, you didn't loose me. Don't think like that, it's that that can hurt you. I'm always here." Sherlock picked up John's face to face him. John stared into this man's eyes. Sherlock showed he was honest, and that he did, truly care about John. John smiled, as did Sherlock. John rested his head back and Sherlock put his arm around John. They looked forwards once again.

They sat at the park for ten minutes before deciding they needed some sleep. John was just about to go to his room, when Sherlock told him it was alright. But, he didn't want to do anything. He wanted to just be with him in the bed, not naked, just there, together. So, they did. Sherlock wrapped his arms tightly around John, and John placed his hand onto Sherlock's arm. Sherlock cuddled with John for the rest of the night. They both felt safe in each other's arms.


	9. Chapter 9

John woke up the next morning. He slowly opened his eyes to the sunlight shining in on his face. The room was cold though, so he wrapped the blankets round him tightly. He yawned and didn't know whether he should just stay in the bed and lay there forever, or to get up. He closed his eyes tightly, and then decided he should get up.

He staggered into the living room and sat down. He picked up his phone which was on the table and text Lestrade. 'I don't know if I can do this.'

'You have to.'

'It'll be too hard, I can't.'

'It's what he wanted, you need to. You can do this.'

'But it hurts.'

'You have to do this, otherwise it'll be me or Mycroft, and he would never want that. It was always you, John.' John sighed and buried his head into his hands. He rubbed his hands down his face and cried a little. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to have to do this.

'Alright, I'll get ready.' He placed his hands softly on his knees and then pushed himself up from the chair. He was about to walk out of the room when he just looked at it all for a moment. Everything so still, nothing had been touched. He'd only been there that night because he felt as though he had to. He felt it was something he needed to do before finally saying goodbye to his friend.


	10. Chapter 10

**Rewind - John's POV**

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I called Sherlock while he was in the taxi. I told him about how my date went terrible, because I knew she wasn't right for me and she could tell I wasn't really that interested in her anyway. He laughed at it; he never knew that the person I loved was, in fact, him.

I heard him screaming on the phone, I didn't know why. I then started to hear other's crying and screaming too. I wondered what was going on, I was scared. I could hear car horns beeping and everyone screaming. I tried to ask Sherlock, but he was screaming too. Everything then stopped. People were still screaming, car horns were still beeping, but Sherlock had stopped. Stopped everything, he didn't make a sound. I then started to hear police sirens and ambulances. I was going frantic.

I later got a call from the hospital telling me Sherlock had been in a car accident. I rushed in to see what had happened, but nobody would tell me anything. I sat in the waiting room where I also met Mycroft. I thought it must be serious if Mycroft was there. I felt guilty for not being in the car with Sherlock, I felt as though I could have done something; what, I don't know. I might have been able to help somehow though. Mycroft tried to comfort me, but nothing would help.

At half past nine, a doctor came out into the waiting room where Mycroft and I were sat worrying. As soon as he came we both stood up quickly. We looked at him as he looked at us. He looked sympathetic towards us. We knew it wasn't good news. He explained the car accident to us, and what it had done to Sherlock. He explained how they had tried to keep him alive, they tried everything. I couldn't take it. I cried so hard. Mycroft tried to help me, but he was in tears to. It was strange to see him so upset. The doctor left us both alone to calm down. I eventually stopped crying.

We were allowed to see him, Sherlock. We saw his body, so lifeless. I tried to wake him up, I knew it wouldn't work but I couldn't come to terms with it. I sobbed and said goodbye to him. It wasn't a proper goodbye. I wanted to tell him everything. I knew then it was all too late. I should have told him how I felt about him sooner. Now I'll never know if he felt the same back.

Mycroft offered me a ride home, which I accepted because I didn't want to be alone right now. He took me into my flat and made sure I was alright. I went to my own room which was above Sherlock's. I couldn't go in his room right now. I could cope. Mycroft stayed with me as long as he could, but he soon had to leave. Maybe to do some grieving of his own, Sherlock was his brother, after all.

I didn't get any sleep; I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't stop thinking about everything that had just happened; thinking it was just a dream. I thought of what life would have been like if I had just told Sherlock how I felt about him. Maybe he felt the same. Now I was never to know.

Mrs Hudson tried to help me the days after his death. As did Lestrade; he came over nearly everyday just to make sure I was coping. Even Donovan and Anderson sent their regards. Molly also came over, which wasn't really helping because we both ended up in tears. Reminiscing over the man we both loved. She told me it was always me. I asked her, if she thought that, why did she still chase after him. "Who wouldn't?" She said, still crying. "He was amazing." She couldn't carry on because she was choking on every word. I didn't really blame her as I was doing the same.

One night I got so upset. I missed him so much. I went to sit in the park for a while. It was two in the morning and freezing, but I didn't care. I could feel him there with me. I decided to go back after ten minutes of just staring into thin air, wishing he'd be back. I went into his room, finally. Everything had been untouched. I went into his bed that hadn't been slept in for too long and threw myself into it. I wrapped the blanket around me and I could smell him. I eventually fell asleep in there.

I got up the next morning and realised it was Sherlock's funeral. I had to speak. I didn't want to; I didn't think I'd be able to. I texted Lestrade, telling him I couldn't do it. He pointed out that, if I didn't, he or Mycroft would have to do it, and I knew Sherlock wouldn't have wanted that. He wanted me to do it.

At the funeral, I couldn't finish speaking. I cried too much. Mycroft helped me though, he continued the speech for me, and made sure I was alright. Everyone gave me their respect. They seemed more upset for me than they did for Mycroft, but he didn't seem to be upset about it.

After the funeral, I found Mycroft outside of the church just sat leaning on the wall. I sat beside him and asked him how he felt. He rubbed some tears from his face and just sighed. He had been grieving a lot also. I felt terrible because more people felt sorry for me than him, when he did care for his brother. He never told him though, he wished he had though. We told each other how we both felt. For some reason, I felt comfortable telling Mycroft about how I felt for his brother. He knew already. He told me Sherlock did feel the same. I didn't believe him at first, but he swore to me there was no one else for his brother. He also thanked me for being there for Sherlock, more than he was. He regretted never seeing him. I tried to comfort him, but he could have seen his brother more.

I went back to the flat, I still didn't feel right. Sherlock needed to be there. He had to. I knew he never was going to be, and I knew I had to start living in reality. I had to let him go.


	11. The End

Everything that was before was just a dream, dreamt by a sad man. However, this dream was not dreamt by the man you would think. It was not John. It was Sherlock. When he was unconscious, he could only think about the one man who made his life complete; John. He knew he had made a mistake never telling John how he felt, and he swore that when he woke up he would tell him.

He kept dreaming about how his life would be when he woke up, he would be with John and he would finally tell him. They would finally be together. He would tell him how safe he felt safe with him; he would tell him how he completed him. He would just tell him that he loved him with all his heart.

As he was dreaming about them in bed, together, he didn't realise that the doctors were struggling to keep him alive. He had convinced himself he was going to wake up; he had to so he could see John. His heart stopped suddenly. The doctors couldn't bring him back. He died thinking of how he and John would live.


End file.
